He has two of them

This is yet another story of my son, nicknamed Bub. We were at a local restaurant having dinner one Friday night recently. I must say that people who put those slot machines disguised as "Crane games" are very clever. In this particular restaurant, the crane machine is in the back right before you get to the restrooms. So if you use the facilities here, you have to pass it twice, doubling their chances that you may decide to lose $1, not a quarter, not two quarters, but $1 per try. This particular crane machine has two sides, one has plush toy characters and the other has spiky rubber balls that average at a size a little bigger than a softball.

As anyone who has a 4-year-old knows, he will inevitably have to use the bathroom at least once, which means he will be asking at least twice to have a dollar and play the disguised pachinko machine. Now, fortunately for me, my son is actually not too shabby at these machines. So, back to my story...

Bub states he needs to go to restroom. I take him and he sees the machine. When we come back out, on his second exposure to the machine, he proceeds to ask me for money to use in it. I tell him that I don't have any cash on me (this was not a lie, I don't carry cash generally). He says "Maybe momma has some," and runs back to the table, yelling for his "Momma" all the way from the back of the restaurant to the front. When he finally gets back to the table, my wife, in a surprising move, gives him $4 and says that this is all she has. I was surprised she was letting him have money to gamble with, but she does. "Come on, Daddy." I proceed to follow him back to the other end of the restaurant to try his hand at the Claw. On his first try, he is able to get a yellow ball. Quiet pleased with himself he takes it back to the table with it under his arm, and tells his momma "next time, I am going to get a Christmas Olaf." Much to my surprise again, my wife says "You have 3 more tries, go try again." I had been pleased that he was able to get the ball on the first try and seemed satisfied with only doing it once. I was speechless when she encouraged this little lucky creature to go do it again. So, I followed him back to the machine again. He puts in another dollar and is able to get another ball. Now I am starting to really get my mind blown and speechless as this little boy is defying odds. He then asks me if I would try to get him the Christmas Olaf that is in the machine. I told him I would try and put the third of our 4 tries into the machine. Of course, I do not get anything. Exasperated, my son says "Let me try!" I put in dollar number four and we get nothing. This does not discourage him, he was still very proud of the two balls he was able to obtain from the machine.

Walking back to the table, Bub is strutting with a ball under each arm. As the restaurant began to fill up and get busy, onlookers watched his march with smiles and laughter. Bub was oblivious to the attention he was getting. When we get back to the table, have taken care of the bill, and are preparing to head for home, Bub asks me to put his coat on him. I agreed and told him that he needed to put the balls down so he could get his coat on. Bub holds them out for me to take. Without thinking, out of habit, I took them and placed them between my knees and thighs to free up my hands to help him with his coat.

At this point, I don't know if God gave me some precognition or I had finally gotten over all the shock I had experienced up to this point but like Spider-Man, I sensed something was coming. Something happens when a child begins to say something that will be embarrassing to parents. Their voice somehow becomes strangely magnified. It was as if the universe itself lined up all the acoustics in the restaurant to make him heard from one end to the other. I am sure that even those in the back bathroom stalls probably could have heard him. Bub begins with the following "Daddy? Why did you put those..." Somehow, I sensed exactly what was coming next. He was about to say "Daddy? Why did you put those balls between your legs?"  Before he could finish the statement he was able to get to "those" before I jumped at him, clamped my hand over his mouth and as politely but seriously as I could, I told him not to say another word. He must have sensed the eagerness in my voice, because his eyes showed a grin and as I slowly pulled my hand away he says "...but daddy, why..." to which I cover his mouth again and beg him to please not say anything. At this point he is starting to giggle at me. I look up at my wife and she looks back at me, both of our eyes opened wide. When the silent conversation between us takes place, both of us realizing what he just about shouted to the restaurant, we both begin to laugh, and laugh, and LAUGH. When we look around, everyone at the neighboring tables are looking at us because of how loud we are laughing and can't seem to stop. All of them are looking at us as if to say, "What is wrong with you people?" So in the effort to avoid being embarrassed by  our son, we embarrassed ourselves. Bub seemed pretty pleased with himself.

Bub and the Beet

So a funny thing happened yesterday. My son who we call Bub is 4 years old, gets into the car everyday after daycare "starving" and dying of thirst. Yesterday he saw an unopened can of pickled beets in our car and was begging for one because he was hungry. We told him that we didn't think he would like it. He began to tell us that he did like them, that he loved them, and that they were his favorite. I can only assume the purple/red-ish color was what convinced him that he would like them. So he talked about how he liked them all the way home. We asked if he wanted one from a can we had open at home and he said yes.

I must give the boy credit, he was going to eat it and try to prove us wrong. Once he got the small bit of pickled beet in his mouth, you can see his brows furrow but he says "MMMMmmm." as if to say it was good. This last for about 2 seconds more until he finally spit it out and declared "Yuck!" It was a fun moment in our household. What makes this so fun? We have it on video as well!!!

 https://youtu.be/UT_e2ReUiSU

Thoughts from the Shower

I don't know what it is about the shower. I love showers! They are funny things because you put off bathing, thinking it's this chore, but most mornings, I don't feel quite right until I've had my shower. I am such a creature of habit that any change to my routine will cause me to forget at least one things for the morning. It is like clockwork. Whenever my morning routine changes, it is pretty much a guarantee that I will forget something. And what is the first thing to activate my morning ritual; the SHOWER. What is even crazier is that while in the shower, my brain starts working at a level that is transcending what it is capable of at every other time. Given that I take great pride in my mind, my imagination, my memory, and my ability to retain knowledge and use it in the most productive ways; while in the shower, its like hitting a turbo button on my mental capacity. I starting analyzing things more clearly, and make connections faster and more profoundly in the shower. I have come up with some of my best ideas while shampooing my hair. I don't know if it the scalp stimulation, the comfort of cleanliness, or just the sensory overload of having water all over and allowing the body to be forgotten and the mind to expand, but never ceases to fail. Not only that but whatever physical ailments I'm dealing with, they seem to be minimized for a time after taking a shower.

Sometimes the thoughts I have while in the shower are not ideas on resolving issues, but rather deeper understanding of things that have happened to me or that I have learned over the course of my time here on Earth. It is almost to the point that when I want to understand something better or want get a better understanding of a topic, I feel compelled to get in the shower. It has become amusing for me when I don't understand something I suddenly feel dirty. Now, my psychology background tells me that I am yet another victim of Pavlov and his conditioning.

What makes this funny to me is that when my mind begins to crank up to eleven and starts working so much better while in the shower, it is usually not a conscience action. It is almost as if my mind is compensating for the extra power it somehow gets from being in the shower and starts looking for things to ponder or figure out. So when I come out of the shower and share with my wife this amazing revelation I have had, she is completely surprised by the topic because it is usually very random to what we have been talking about or discussing prior to the shower. Bless her heart she has gotten to the point that she does not ask "Where did that come from?" because the only thing crazier than me coming up with some random profound thought, is explaining the train of thought that led to it. Sometimes I make jumps between subjects that Evel Knievel would be nervous about.

I think the only thing that might make the shower experience much better for me would be to have a big enough shower to have a thinking chair or bench to sit on. Or maybe even a couch or sorts to lay down while in the shower!!! Give me that, and I may be able to figure out a better answer to life and everything than 42!

My challenge to you is to not be in a rush during your next shower and let you mind wander. See where it takes you. The next time you need to think about something, don't sleep on it, but shower on it.

Not Boo A...

I have five brothers. The closest in age to myself is seven years older. The next one is eight years younger. It is this one that I have spent the most time living with while younger. My aunt gave him a nick name when he was very young; Boo. It was customary to say his name followed by the moniker Boo. Over time it was shortened to simply Boo. When I was in high school and he was in the last states of Elementary 6th or 7th grade, he started to participate in our church's youth group along with myself. Now, as I have mentioned, he is eight years younger than myself. This eliminated a lot of the sibling rivalry that can happen when born close together. I always see him as someone watching me, looking at me as an example. I have been told that my brother was quiet cute. I never took this one way or the other because I considered my view of him either biased or skewed. Our church youth group would take a trip during the summer for about half of one week and go on a mission trip. One particular summer we teamed up with a church in the next town which had a youth group that was mostly made up of females. Many of which were my brothers age. It turns out that a few of them had a crush on him but I was not aware. The rooming situation fell with my brother and I, along with one of my best friends (we'll call him Andrew) staying together in one room. So we are getting ready for bed, my brother is already dosing while watching TV. My friend Andrew begins to talk with me in code about the girls that have a crush on my brother. We do a fine job of talking in code and Boo not understanding or picking up on it, partly due him being half asleep. At one point, Andrew slips and says Boo by name. To which my brother stirs and says "Are you talking about me?" To which Andrew responds "Oh no, Boo. Not you. We are talking about some other Boo. Boo-B." To which my high school mind instantly begins to snigger. I grin really big at Andrew and ask if he realized what he just said. His face, instantly becomes puzzled as he thinks back to what he said. I can see the wheels turning in his head and wondering if he gave more away than the fact that we were talking about Boo, and then it hit him! "Boo B" To which we both laughed and clarified to Boo that he was not Boo-B but rather Boo-A. So now his nickname evolved from Boo to Boo-A. This became a running gag, to which my brother quickly caught on. We went around constantly saying his name and introducing him as Boo-A, hoping that someone would ask the question.
Most got it up front and simply saying "Boo-A" was enough for a chuckle or giggle. It was not until later that we were at another church function, a lunch were all the youth were going outside to throw around a ball behind the Fellowship hall. Someone yelled, "Hey come on down Boo-A". This prompted another youth group member to shout the question we have been waiting for, "IS THERE A BOO B???" Instant realization swept over him and he knew that he messed up. The only sound heard after this question was the cackling of my church youth group!

Here is to you, Boo A

Where there is smoke...

As a child, I did a lot of dumb things. But in my defense I had seen a lot of dumb things done by others. Given that these were the role models I had around, it is quiet amazing I'm even alive. One of the things that I have always been told was not to play with fire. Too bad no one every demonstrated this. It also did not help that my step-father sold fireworks when I was kid. One of my earliest memories from childhood was setting off fireworks at my home on the Fourth of July. I have always been attracted to flames. (Just an FYI, in case anybody was starting to worry, I am not cruel to animals, and in regards to bedwetting, well 2 out of three ain't bad.)

Let me start of describing an incident were I was shown how not to work with fire. When I was in younger, I went to my friends house for New Years. His old brother had some friends over as well and they all had the idea to deck out a friends car with fireworks. My friends and I, wanting to participate with these old guys, helped them with this. With the aid of tape, we were able to adhere a large number of fireworks to his car. He got in and prepared to drive it down the drive way. One, two, three, and everyone began to light their own portion of the car. Almost in unison, the firework fountains and sparklers all ignited. This crazy guy began to drive this car that was almost consumed in sparks down the driveway. Now, I have always tried to make connections when new information is presented to me. I take in new sensory data and think about what it reminds me of from previous experience. I remember thinking to myself that we needed to try to get it up to 88 miles per hour and it could have been just like the DeLorean from Back to the Future.

Now, this did nothing to teach me the proper way to work with fireworks or fire in general. And the fact that I make connections did nothing to help as well. Every year since I was 8 years-old, my step-father would put on a fireworks show in our hometown for the Fourth of July. One year, when I was about 12 years old, I was given the job of shooting the bottle rockets at dusk before the real show began. I was excited. I had my parents purchase a grill lighter for me so that I could do it without getting burned. Early in the day, I went to the van with the fireworks and began to organize and lay out which rockets I would shoot and in which order. Here is when a connection crosses my mind. I had watched Toy Story that afternoon, as well as went to Burger King for a Kids Meal. I had a spaceman toy in my pocket. Now, many of you who have seen this movie knows exactly what I am thinking about at this point. If you don't, I had realized that, like a character in the movie, I could send my spaceman into orbit with these rockets. The only problem was that these rockets were not strong enough to lift the spaceman...by themselves. I took about six different rockets, taped them around the spaceman with electrical tape, and rigged the fuses to light from one main fuse.

Dusk had arrived. I was given a metal pipe in the ground to start shooting the rockets. After a dozen or so, I decided it was time for launch. I brought out my "Rocketman" and put him in position. Everyone else that was helping with the fireworks were standing at the back of the open van, preparing for the show. I was pretty far away so that they could not see what I was doing. I even did a countdown. T-10 and counting...My half a brain did not realize that this spaceman was still a little too heavy for the thrust I had for him. I lit the fuse, they all ignited at the same time, and the rockets began to rise, but only for half a second, then the weight of the spaceman sent them on a course parallel with the ground. Flying about 4 feet above the ground, it flew toward the back of the van with all the fireworks in it. Older folks ran and dove faster than  I have ever seen them go. The rockets missed the open doors of the van by only a foot, sliding past the van then exploding. I stood there mouth open, eyes wide. Needless to say, my half a brain was not allowed to help for the rest of the night. :)

Before there was a Fruit Ninja, I was

Why do we do the things we do? Especially when we were younger, we tend to do some very dumb things. I work in a middle school and I think an asst. principal once said it best. He was talking to a student who was in trouble because they had done something wrong because someone else told them to do it. The asst. principal began to explain to this eighth grader how long it takes for our brain to finish developing. He explained how it does not usually finish until a person is around 22 years-old. Then he flat out says, "Why would you listen to someone who only has half a brain?!?!" Well, the question is answering itself. Because they only have half a brain. :) Maybe this is why we do dumb things. As for me and my friends, at this point in our lives, I think the 5 of us only had half a brain between us. Here is an example of the "brilliant" things we could come up with:

I have been collecting swords since I was in high school and old enough to buy them on my own. My parents, they new better than to buy them for me. The first sword I bought was a Highlander replica sword. I was young and foolish so I did two very unwise things; first, I kept the sword very sharp and second, I kept it in the trunk of my car along with other odd things. This will come to play.

On the last day of school before Winter Break, I was presented with a box of fruit I had bought from the FFA in order to impress a girl. I was given a box of oranges. I put those in my trunk. After school, we went bowling since school dismissed early. We bowled and were trying to find something else to do. Then an idea popped in my head. I don't know why it did. I don't know how, but before I knew it we were throwing fruit in the parking lot and cutting it with my sword in midair. We also had one of my friends photographing this stupidity. After we had went through a good portion of the box and were littering the parking lot with orange halves. Another idea popped into my head. I then pulled out a baseball bat from the trunk of my car, and decided it would be fun to hit the oranges with this. This made a much larger mess as they exploded upon impact with the bat. Now the parking lot was filled with orange halves and orange pulp. We finally became bored with this and went home. I am very surprised we were not asked to leave at the least. Looking back, I fully agree they probably should have called the police to come and scare us.